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1181

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(UChicago)
Why are odd numbers odd?

Exhausted after hours of thinking, I closed my eyes and fell into a deep sleep. I felt that I was going down, sinking… I opened my eyes. Before me, were two huge gates, with the lines “Through me you enter into the city of woes, through me you enter into eternal pain. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,” inscribed on them. The wayfarer and his guide were in the midst of their journey, standing at the Gates of Hell. “What is so odd about odd numbers?” I asked them. “Dante, the use of odd numbers in your literature is unequivocal. Seven sins, nine circles, and constant association with the number nine in La Vita Nuova. Could you elaborate on that?” “Raghav, I used odd numbers to indicate something queer, mystical, and even slightly divine. Such use of odd numbers is abundant in all forms of literature throughout history,” he answered. Then Virgil spoke. “To know why odd numbers are odd, you should go to the place, where walk the people who have taught you reason and the way of science.”

Curious to hear what others thought about my problem, I continued on my quest, seeking the answer to this question, and reached Oxford, where Dr. Richard Dawkins and the late Christopher Hitchens were, as usual, discussing science and religion. “Think, Raghav. The presence of ‘oddity’ of odd numbers suggest that their roots could be embedded in basic human nature. Our books, especially those which deal with evolution, and that EDx course you did, have given you short lessons in evolutionary anthropology.
Now think, why do people have such peculiar feelings about odd numbers? Why does man feel naturally “comfortable” about even numbers?” I gave more prolonged thought, and the answer reached out towards me. Even numbers split into two parts. We as humans innately have bilateral symmetry programmed in our physical bodies, and thereby have become accustomed to using it when we think! We are used to seeing “two halves” in everything. “Raghav, odd numbers are part of math. Don’t you think you should visit the people of the principal subject of your study?” “Of course” I replied, and went up, above in the clouds, and in the stratosphere .

There I saw two of the greatest minds sitting on the porch of a house. Hardy was doing mathematics again; heaven had returned his ability to do the “young man’s game,” and Erdős, with an expression of utter amazement, was holding “The Book” in his hands. I asked them the same question. “Ah! that’s not hard,” Erdos said. “Even numbers preserve their evenness under addition, subtraction, and multiplication. In mathematical terms, it is a nice Abelian group under addition. Odd numbers don’t do this, so odd numbers are odd in this manner.” Then he kept muttering to himself: “Aren’t numbers beautiful? If numbers aren’t beautiful, I don’t know what is!” Hardy spoke up, “Raghav, why are you so hurtful to odd numbers? Odd numbers are the first step towards primes. How can you forget prime numbers? Tell me, who is the queen of sciences?” “Mathematics.” “And who is the queen of mathematics?” “Number Theory.” “Then, if I may, prime numbers are Number Theory with her bosom unbuttoned. Odd numbers are some of the most spectacular things the human race has discovered. Now go scoot off, and don’t forget to come here more often once your college apps are done!”

Mind buzzing with ideas, I woke up, and started to write the essay.

[this essay was illustrated with some pictures and a quote of G.H. Hardy - “Archimedes will be remembered when Aeschylus is forgotten, because languages die and mathematical ideas do not.”
and Raghav is an alias :stuck_out_tongue:

…

How does the University of Chicago, as you know it now, satisfy your desire for a particular kind of learning, community, and future? Please address with some specificity your own wishes and how they relate to UChicago.

[image of a boy proposing a girl with a flower at night]

O UChicago, still etched upon my memory, is that day, that moment
when I first laid my eyes upon you
the sheet went blank white, except for that one name, among hundreds
the pages of the college list blew

O UChicago, that night, my eyes were sealed, but the mind, and my heart
had fallen in the bottomless mine of love
Since then, I seek a chance, to talk to you, and next year finally,
to be with you in a cove

Seriously, your youtube videos, the cute tumblr blog, website
I should be arrested for stalking
Wikipedia page, students, scientific citations, celebrity alumni
presence of your grace is startling
Dollar shake days, scavenger hunt and Doc films,
we can have, endless is the fun
Housing system, core’s common curriculum and the community
I can make, friendships a tonne

The truth is bitter, I need aid, I may not have the typical things
International Olympiads and SAT scores fine
Sadly, you are probably going to reject me.
But as they say, all aside, love is blind, I have faith in you
I will be yours, and you will be mine, because…

O UChicago, how, just how, can you not see?
that is a tough question, all agree
Like a kernel in a homomorphism, like enzyme and substrate, like Sodium and Chlorine
such a perfect fit we are, you and me!

Your superb academics, world leading economics, ground breaking contributions
to sociology, law, and physics, lots of exciting things to see
Isn’t it plain enough, that I adore math? Is it really hard to figure out,
that your robust math program, is garden of Eden to me?

The Hogwarts style buildings, the focus on theory, the geeky culture
is a nerd-haven on earth, it is plain
Isn’t it evident, that the pursuit of knowledge, is forged in my identity?
Isn’t your core, the fertile playground I need for my brain?

I will keep you happy, for the four years and beyond, I have found
clubs and activities I could lead or improve
“and UChicago is the place where it happened and started” I will say
when I receive the Fields medal, or P vs. NP I prove

Professor Biron teaching momentum using fire extinguishers, greek philosophy
will stimulate you see, my cells, grey
The city of Chicago, it’s gangster history, its culture, the food
and it’s schools where I can teach math many-a-day

make UChicago, the place for me to be

1182

Additional essays:

“If I could prove that you would die in five minutes, I should be sorry you were going to die, but my sorrow would be very much mitigated by pleasure in the proof” - G.H Hardy

The Joy of Problem Solving

Prove: The diameter subtends a right angle in a circle.
At first, the problem just sits there. It seems scary and daunting, impenetrable with it’s solid
shell. So you muster your army of thought and attack it with the force of experimentation by
constructing diameters and circles of various sizes. Slowly, you begin to see faults in it’s
seemingly impenetrable shell. A bit of the sweet nectar from the center oozes out. The
problem speaks, softly and quietly at first. It gives you bits of ‘feelings’.­ The angle is right
because diameter divides the circle in two equal parts, the circumference is somehow
controlling the angle. Then, after a prolonged war or blood, sweat and tears, you unearth the first solution,
often by a lucky construction. “What happens if I join the center to the angle’s vertex? This isn’t helping.
Oh wait… it is! That segment is a radius, so are two halves of the diameter. You can chase
angles - if this angle is x, that one is also x, similarly for y. The sum of the angles of a
triangle is 180 degrees! so 2x+2y=180, x+y=90, which is our required angle! yes!!”

This moment, when you ‘see’ the solution of a problem ­ which makes you jump in sheer
delight, is unparalleled and unique. It eclipses all intellectual experiences. You feel sheer
transcendence over being human and get a glimpse of the divine. A hot chocolate of pleasure
and strength flows from the heart into the body, because you have satisfied one of mankind’s
most fundamental lusts - the lust for knowledge.

Great!, but don’t forget that Learning begins when you get one solution of the problem. This
solution doesn’t tell you why, really the problem is true, and the geometry works the way it
does. Multiple solutions will penetrate the heart of the problem, and defeat it completely.

Teaching

Bhaskaracharya Pratishthana institute of mathematics sits atop a small hill in the greener parts of Toona. Oft-times, on Sunday evenings, if you go to classroom 11A in the right wing, you will find yourself in a truly remarkable community. A bunch of eager sixth and seventh graders will be seated at the desks, pens out, poised to start their favorite activity of the week - math class with Shravan dada.
I remember the first time I taught; I was very nervous and scared. Since then, every time my students’ eyes sparkled after unraveling a solution or their backs arched straight by getting the idea, they picked up my curiosity and perseverance towards learning. It brought us closer and we slowly became the best of friends.
Sometimes they bring me tears of joy and pride:
“You have been trying the problem for an hour, should I give a hint?”
“No Raghav dada, let us try.”

1183

i was accepted early action and will be attending. since i have used this as a resource many times, i may as well post my essays.

i don’t think that my essays were great. especially my “why uchicago” response. my supplement was probably my strongest of the three. i answered the “why are you here and not somewhere else?” question, but it is a tad personal. but if anyone reading this is interested in reading that, then feel free to message me.

why uchicago:

In high school there was never really a subject I was “bad” at. Sure, you might be thinking, “Oh, no. Not another one of these kids.” However, I can say wholeheartedly that my statement does not fill me with pride. As much as I enjoyed my classes, it is disheartening that there are so many things to which I have not been exposed. I want depth. Despite being successful in high school, I have an appetite for understanding so much more. I want a place where the limit to my education does not exist.

There are so many things that I do not know. Knowledge is comforting to me. I like to know why things are the way they are. I am the girl on that humid summer day with the windows rolled down, blaring music that I fail to truly understand. Reading music notes is a foreign language, and I have no sense of rhythm. This is a scary thought for me; I can adore a composition so much and cling to it for hours on end, absorbing every word, yet I am ultimately clueless on how one engineers a song.

When I visited campus last summer, I was in utter awe. It was beautiful. As wonderful as it was to admire the Gothic architecture, I found something even more beautiful that I will not ever forget – my tour guide raving about the courses that she has explored at the University of Chicago. That is what hooked me. She proudly revealed that she is an expert on North American deserts. I crave the presence of students who take pride in such achievements. Which other school’s students can boast such areas of expertise? No place comes to mind.

I can only hope that the University of Chicago will give me the sanctuary that is knowledge.

optional:

It is surreal to realize that rummaging through Christmas gifts in the seventh grade would impact my entertainment interests as well as my worldly ambitions from the beginning of my high school career to the end. Maybe I received a gift that would make other twelve year-olds cringe, but peeling away at the edges of the wrapping paper revealed more than the Rosetta Stone package that disguised itself as a shoe box. Instead I uncovered what initiated my passion for German.

Now, what girl spends her Christmas afternoon experimenting with such a program? I never expected to be that girl. Obviously I became inspired to pursue the language, beginning with German One. That class consisted of phrases and sentences crafted so simply that I just had to unravel the secrets behind every grammatical piece to the puzzle. I still have the same joy in concocting each translation in AP German that I did in the eighth grade. Nevertheless, this puzzle is nowhere near complete despite fitting in more pieces up to my fifth year. I can say, however, that the puzzle has grown in size. Over the years my infatuation grew.

My favorite book is The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. I was captivated by Death’s narration of the story as well as how relatable Liesel, the main character, was to me. Set during World War II and the rise of the Führer, it was anything but a book about war and fascism. Liesel’s special relationship with words made me think about my relationship with words – German words. In addition to Zusak’s story, I have also grown fond of German films. One of my favorites, “Goodbye Lenin,” explores the protagonist, Alex, trying to change his mother’s life after she falls into a coma during Soviet control of East Germany that persists until after the country reunites and changes forever.

Strangely, I felt part of something big. Not only have I never been to Germany, but I also have zero German descent. It struck me in the summer of 2014 when I nestled on the couch in my Müller jersey, making sure that I never missed a World Cup match. From the opening victory against Portugal to the thrashing of Brazil seven to one, the final win against Argentina truly moved me. Maybe I was just watching a screen from (insert town), Michigan, but that televised trophy ceremony made me feel like I belonged to such a group that was so far away.

1184

@Esquared…your essay definitely tickled my fancy… ancient post but hey…

1185

@‌Duvarc Excellent!

1186

How are my essays? :-S

1187

Why UChicago

When I was sixteen, I set off on a quest to find Interesting People. Everyone told me to go to Harvard, and to Harvard I went, bursting excitedly into a building containing twenty-six senators afloat in a swimming pool filled with American currency.

“Leave, foul proletariat,” they snarled, and so I left for Princeton. There I found four physicists seated around a dinner table, dropping silverware into a black hole with the enthusiasm of a man passing a kidney stone.

“Quite impressive,” they said dully, and since I was neither impressed nor masochistic, I did not stay.

I went to the University of Chicago.

There, I was seduced by ghosts. A pale Vonnegut called out to me, speaking of science and religion and human stupidity. Phillip Roth, transparent yet completely real, took my hand and led me through rooms and rooms suffused with wistful freshmen and their wistful dreams. New York Times bestseller lists and Pulitzers hung over their heads like fruit just out of reach, and as the English professor asked for literary analysis every single hand in the room stretched upward.

I raise my hand too. I raise my hand to be part of a tradition that makes UChicago unique among every other school in the world. It is the tradition of creation and the prioritization of the new, the novel, and the innovative over the status quo. While other schools churn out (by the dozen) authors who simply regurgitate past ideas, UChicago cultivates minds that change the entire nature of literature. I see Vonnegut and see not only a creative genius, but also a product of UChicago’s stimulating faculty and UChicago’s nourishing environment.

And everywhere I go on campus I see people like him - I see Interesting People. Through a dirty window I see a girl perched on the highest branch of an oak tree, singing melodies to the leaves. On the sidewalk I see a boy painting a picture of a girl painting a picture of the boy painting a picture of the girl until my mind fractures trying to understand the loop.

I see an old man in a tie-dye shirt, who, after sitting on a bench for two hours, types a single word on a rusted typewriter. Curious, I ask him his major.

“I don’t even go here,” he snuffles. “I just come for the atmosphere.”

I hope I can too – but not just to sit idly on campus and dream. I want to go to UChicago to be an active participant. To learn. To create. To raise my hand for a second time, and then a third, and again and again until I can reach that elusive fruit and more times even after. To raise my hand for the only intellectual passion I have ever had in my life: the English language.

1188

wow, those are pretty good essays @Duvarc‌

1189

Welp, I’m bored and deferred. So, here’re my essays. Hope you all enjoy them, and I hope they inspire future applicants a little bit. I know this thread inspired me. I made my own prompt.

UCHICAGO SUPPLEMENT:

Prompt: Color vision is possible because of cone photoreceptors in the eye; different types of cone cells respond to different wavelengths of light, resulting in the perception of different colors. You are a cone photoreceptor. Describe your perception of color.

I sit here in a McDonald’s ball pit, reflecting its light. Balls of color surround me, a young girl smiles and dives into the pit. She smiles at me, almost to thank me. I allow her to view color. She is grateful for the color, as if she knows it is bound to fade.

New life, color flooding in, vibrant faces, smiles, tears, and happiness. Suddenly, the black and white of a long life lived fades. A swarm of new colors fills the view; what used to be dull is repackaged to be new. The colors replace the uncertainties and sorrows of the gray. The “been there"s and “done that"s of life are now as valuable as they were at first sight.

The newborn baby girl is blind. Her personalized versions of myself have not yet developed within her eyes, but the color will soon fill her view as well, unleashing itself in all its variety.

John Belushi unleashed the colors of comedy to the nation on October 11th, 1975, the beginning of Saturday Night Live. Before its eyes, the randomness of Belushi’s mind became the yelling and flopping characters he portrayed. The light of the stage, the attentive eyes of the audience, and the glistening smiles and hearty chuckles shaped his colorful environment.

In the first four months of her life, the new child’s sight is abuzz. The eyes do not work together, and cannot zone in on a target. With no target, she looks for nothing specific, exploring what there is to explore.

Dr. Martin Luther King embraced the colors of society. The diverse shades of humanity, each one carrying with it a culture, a background, and a history. No color shines less bright than others. In American society, the color and meaning of entire groups of people had faded. Martin Luther King believed in a collective, harmonious humanity.

In the next stages, the child begins to see inklings of color. The formative process paints her world. Wowed by the fluorescence, she embraces it, smiling with dimpled cheeks at what is to come.

James Clerk Maxwell saw the fleeting colors and captured them. With his three color synthesis theory, he provided an impetus to color photography. He saw color in the world and understood its impermanence. With his photograph of a tartan ribbon in 1861, he gave the world a way to capture color before it faded.

Color manifests itself within each individual. The color is most abundant when we are unconscious of it, when everything is new. Then, things grow, we grow, the color we once saw in nature, in our relationships, and in our lives fades to gray, losing meaning, and inducing scoffs and cynicism.

The new child is now a toddler. The color is already beginning to fade. Her playpen is less of a wonderland to be explored and more of a barrier to the nearest cookie jar.

Belushi had been around. The laughs of Animal House and countless Saturday Night Live skits had become, as David Ansen from Newsweek stated, the “sour case of creative indigestion” that was Neighbors.

The toddler is now a teenager. The back of the car is no longer a speeding ride through time and space but rather a slot of time between point A and point B.

Martin Luther King had been assassinated. The patriarch of the Civil Rights movement gunned down. The process left in limbo.

The teenager is now an adult. The trees are no longer towers to be climbed and peered from, but rather barky nuisances that fall on people. New people are ones with new opinions, ones she disagrees with, not a new worldview from which to learn.

Maxwell’s results were inadequate. He knew right then. The picture came out blurred and beclouded. He gave up on color photography, just to have his theory reused in the centuries to come.

A joke is funniest when it is first told; a movement has the most impact in its beginnings, and a discovery is best discovered when it works the first time. After their vibrant, colorful first appearances, their meaning fades, such with life.

I peer through the net of the ball pit. The people sit in the booths, checking their watches, yelling at their children, almost to say, “Don’t have too much fun!” These people, disenchanted with color, live empty lives. Nodding their heads, staying in their place, and decaying into the gray shells of their once colorful selves.

The girl’s mother peeks her head in the ball pit. She says, “Honey, your food is here. Do you want to come out and eat with us?” The girl glances at me then replies, "No thanks.”

WHY UCHICAGO:

My dearest UChicago,

I know we have not seen each other since February, and I know I left you much too soon. My father and grandmother had parked on 57th St., and wanted to get a head start walking back to the car; I did not intend to leave the campus tour early. I did not intend to leave you behind. I write to you begging for another chance.

I will admit, when I first met you, my wants were primarily physical. Your wonderful gothic architecture wowed me. Your vast quadrangle encapsulated me in a feeling of home. Your low acceptance rate motivated me to break through your “hard-to-get” stage. Consequently, I got to know you at your Core.

Your Core is a tricky nut to crack. The small, intimate discussions we would share together paradoxically made me feel like I was a part of something bigger—a community. Your quarter based system kept things from moving too quickly, or dragging along. At your Core, you are a fiery, debate-driven learning experience. We would debate about Dutch disease and the resource curse in the “oil states”, dispute inner-city education in the United States, and discuss the growth of “voluntourism” amongst college students.

Your dense, challenging arguments helped me realize my passions. Paging through Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything, one of your favorite books, I learned of your strange insight regarding economics. You harped on the point that morality is how I want things to be, and economics is how they are. When I attended MUNUC XXV and XXVI, you would be there waiting, supporting my desire to pursue international relations, yet challenging me to create resolutions to seemingly irresolvable problems like troubles in the post-Arab Spring MENA region.

Although you have taught me so much, I still feel like there is so much about you I do not know. I have not perused your book collection in the Mansueto Library. I have not seen your funny side through Occam’s Razor, Off-Off Campus, and the Shady Dealer. I have not met your favorite researchers and professors, and sat in your classrooms. I have not even met your father—this Boyer fellow.

All I know is, you are one to bring home to mom.

With love,

HugzUC (Changed so my name isn’t public on the internet, ha.)

1190

FAVORITE THINGS ESSAY:

My favorite food, a piece of white bread, when exposed to heat, crisps and hardens into the beginning of a well-structured organization: we are toast.

Waking up in the morning as a gleeful ten year old, sliding on my butt down the stairs, humming the tune of Billy Joel’s Piano Man, I would arrive in the kitchen —my toast awaits.

I would lather my toast in butter and sprinkle cinnamon on it, then scarf it down. I was unaware as to what this daily routine would become.

As I grew older, I continued to eat my crispy bread delights, however for lunch and dinner as well. I would stay up late on Friday nights, alone as I prefer, watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, or any other Charlie Kaufmann film, and eating slice after slice. The toast was my common denominator.

My love for toast helped me through transitional phases. The awkward picking and choosing of a lunch table in a new school was eased by toast. Rather than sitting in the corner reading Anna Karenina like I did to start the year, I branched out, making eight slices of toast each day and distributing it among my five new friends and me.

The love for toast spread like butter, and eventually the demand rose to the point that my friends and I needed a regulating body, or perhaps a document: the Toastitution. Stored in a Notability document on my school-administered iPad, the six original members penned in their commitment to toast.

Much improved over the previous system, or, as we like to joke, The Articles of Convection, the Toastitution allowed what we have deemed “table toast” to flourish. Since its ratification on October 7th, 2013, the Toastitution has undergone six amendments, requiring a 4/6 vote amongst the founders. However, what could never be amended was the eight slices of toast, arriving each day without fail (see the Unamendable Clause). With its arrival, we pound the table chanting, “Table toast! Table toast! Table toast!”

And don’t even get me started on jelly.

1191

To the Admissions Officers at the University of Chicago, here is the question I ask you:

What happens when you take something out of context?

“Tumble outta bed
And I stumble to the kitchen
Pour myself a cup of ambition
And yawn and stretch
And try to come to life.”

Dolly Parton’s voice jolts me awake and I bolt up, confused and disorientated; I don’t normally wake up until 5:30. I fumble in the darkness for the battered LG Cosmo that functions as my calendar and alarm clock. Shutting it off, I bumble out of bed and search for the light switch. I must be half-asleep still, because I can’t seem to find it…But wait, here’s the doorknob, yes! Beyond this lies the hallway and then a hot- Man? Standing in my door frame is what I would assume to be a teenage boy, roughly the same age as me (though a bit taller).

“What are you doing in my house?” I ask, slightly taken aback with how familiar he seems. The guy looks confused for a second and then laughs.

“Could I borrow your contact solution?” Without waiting for an answer he walks past me, flips on the light switch that had escaped me, and begins sifting through my bags. Part of me is stunned by his audacity; first you break into my home, now my toiletry kit? Before I can challenge this intruder to a proper duel, a far more terrifying realization hits me: this isn’t my room. My room is an ugly beige with a Dolly Parton poster above the bed and a Picasso on the bookshelf. These walls are bare except for a deep red pennant emblazoned with some type of oddly accustomed bird. It seems to wink at me as I back away in horror.

I nearly leap down the stairs of this demonic house, rushing past no less than six collegiately dressed youths, all of whom smile and wave in what must be the Devil’s mockery. I find a heavy, wooden door that seems to lead outside and I take the gamble. Opening it, I am greeted by the backhand of winter. Still undeterred, I press through the icy gale scratching at my bedclothes. For a fleeting moment, the wind ruffles my flannel pants and, despite the lack of a subway grate, I am like Marilyn Monroe. But, you know, with acne scars and hairy legs.

I dare a glance behind me at the mysterious mansion I had woken in. Deeply chiseled in stone above the door that granted me freedom are the words, “Chamberlin House”.

Everything goes black.

…

“Jump in the shower
And the blood starts pumpin’,
Out on the street
The traffic starts jumpin’,
With folks like me on the job from 9 to 5.”

My back straightens and I shake my head like a wet collie. What? I was just outside and it was cold and I was in pajamas but now, I’m…I’m in jeans and a red shirt with that infernal bird from the pennant on it. I am at a desk in a large hall. Looking around, I see there are about twenty kids like me, all similarly dressed and staring intently at me.

“SpookySpaceKook?” I turn my head toward the source, a well-dressed gentleman with a kind yet firm face standing at the front of the room. “You were stating your thoughts on Plato?” No, I most definitely was not. I was sleeping in my bed in Randomtown, U.S. until my alarm woke me up somewhere that is certainly not Randomtown, U.S. You see, Randomtown, U.S., does not have gothic turrets or stony buildings or tall teenage boys who steal your contact solution, and it absolutely does not have well-dressed people looking at you in expectancy of philosophical knowledge. Yet, without making any conscious decision to say the words, I find myself speaking in reply,

“Plato’s concept of this ‘world of ideas’ is fascinating, but it’s difficult to appreciate how forward it really was, considering the historical context. Viewing it through a modern lens where we’ve grown up in a society conditioned by Christianity, it’s easy to dismiss Plato’s world of ideas as a simple appropriation of the hope of heaven and the belief that man, being imperfection, comes from deity, being perfection. Once you get past that first cultural barrier, I think it’s fairly simple to see how Plato’s two-pronged views prompted Aristotle’s inquiries into change.”

I have no idea what I just said. The closest I’ve come to Plato before this was when I babysat my nephew and got too invested in his modeling clay. Yet, I feel connected to the words I have just uttered. There is a sense of urgency flaring through my veins as I strain myself to hear what the instructor and the other students think, what ideas Plato’s thoughts have sparked within each of them. Without knowing why, I look down again at the bird on my maroon shirt. Wrapped around it is the saying “Crescat scientia; vita excolatur.” Let knowledge grow from more to more; and so be human life enriched. The words shine brighter and brighter, until my view is a dazzling daze of diamond-dusted students and their instructor, intertwined in a symbiosis that feels simultaneously supernatural and innate.

Once again, everything goes black.

…

“Workin’ 9 to 5,
What a way to make a livin’-”

I wake up quicker this time, and I look around my new surroundings. But this time, I have a hazy recognition of where I am. Sitting on a plush couch, the room seems comforting and familiar. Next to me is the audacious lad who stole my contact solution; something tells me his name is Edward. A girl who looks like a Zunaira is sitting next to the television with the DVD player open. She looks at me expectantly, but she doesn’t need to repeat her question. I stand up and proudly face my housemates behind me.

“For this week’s Thursday Bad Movie Night, I have decided to share with you all a hit, musical drama about a small town gospel choir: Joyful Noise! This film stars Queen Latifah alongside an iconic, gorgeous, immensely talented woman named Dolly Parton.” A couple people snicker; my love of Dolly is well-known by this point.

As I return to my seat, a maroon pennant on the far wall catches my eye. It’s the same one that was hanging on my bedroom wall and the same design as my shirt. The odd bird on the pennant stares back at me with an approving fierceness and I realize what I’ve been missing: It is a phoenix.

…

“Barely gettin’ by,
It’s all takin’ and no givin’-”

Bolting upright like a frenzied Dracula escaping the coffin, I am astonished to find myself back in my old room in Randomtown, U.S. Looking around the dark room, the once-accustomed shapes of my desk and bookshelf seem boring and banal in comparison to the rich imagery of my dream. Was it a dream? It felt too vibrant, and I’d certainly never examined Plato in my sleep previously. Turning on my lamp, a small pamphlet lying on my nightstand catches my eye. Emblazoned boldly on the maroon paper is the phoenix, along with the regal words, “University of Chicago.”

What happens when you take something out of context? It doesn’t just lose its meaning; the entire definition changes. The context of my life thus far is the suburban world of Randomtown, U.S. What occurs when I am transplanted to the University of Chicago, confronted with philosophy, finance, and topics that I’d never even thought to consider before? What happens when you take me out of context?

It’s simple: I change.

1192

Mine’s a bit long and weird, but I figured it wouldn’t be fair to apply to a school without letting them know I like Dolly Parton.

1193

Power of three prompt.

At its most philosophical level, Hinduism propagates that the Supreme Power manifests itself through the forces of creation, sustenance, and destruction, Trimurthi, resonating omne trium perfectum. Over the years, as my knowledge and appreciation for Hinduism increased, I have been able to recognize the role the Trimurthi plays not only in the world around me but also in my own intellectual and spiritual development.
Change represents the harmonious interplay of the Trimurthi, as we see new ideas being created, maintained, and destroyed in tandem; Physics is a perfect example to depict this. Nearly two thousand five hundred years ago, the cosmic force of creation launched the conceptualization of physics. The philosopher Aristotle thought that the Sun revolved around the Earth; many others had the erroneous thought that the Earth was flat. Around the same time period, early Indian and Chinese philosophers and scientists had the misconception that the atom could not be divided further. As time passed, the sustenance and destruction aspects of the Trimurthi came into play; for instance, Galileo’s discovery of gravity is a fundamental idea to physics which has been sustained into present day. The forces of destruction came into play when Galileo developed a heliocentric model of the solar system, destroying the validity of the earlier geocentric model and also when J.J Thompson discovered the electron, eliminating the false idea that atoms could not be subdivided. Throughout history, ideas in physics have been created, sustained, and eliminated leaving us with the most complete knowledge possible.
The Trimurthi also represents the evolution of knowledge both in scope and complexity; some knowledge is sustained giving rise to further questions and inquiry resulting in creation and discovery while eliminating error. Mathematics and physics provide evidence to support this claim. For example, Indian mathematicians developed counting principles and simple arithmetic over two thousand years ago. Over time, mathematics evolved from simple arithmetic into algebra and geometry, developed by early Islamic scholars. From there, the scope and intricate nature of mathematics expanded into calculus, topology, statistics, and much more. The scope of physics expanded in the same way; for instance, basic Newtonian mechanics later expanded into extremely complex branches of physics such as relativity and quantum mechanics. Thus, I have come to believe that the forces of Trimurthi have worked to expand our knowledge of our world throughout time.
The forces of Trimurthi could also be applied in a practical context; one example is corporate development. New ideas give birth to a company; sound strategy sustains and prolongs the life of the company, while some ideas will result in its demise if not eliminated. Similarly, old product ideas have to be destroyed to introduce new product ideas; old corporate structures have to be destroyed to facilitate implementation of new strategy.
I also see the forces of Trimurthi acting within me to pave the path for my physical, intellectual and spiritual growth. The cells in my body are continuously created, sustained and are destroyed after few weeks or months. This demonstrates that the forces of Trimurthi can not only act over a long period of time, but instantaneously as well.
I see the cosmic force of creation at play whenever I sing Indian classical music (Carnatic music). Carnatic music has numerous improvisational components, such as the elaboration of ragas, melodic scales, and the improvisation of variants of certain lines within songs. The force of creation helped me combine my musical abilities with my creativity in order to produce beautiful music. The force of creation also works within me whenever I write; the force enables me to express my ideas in not only a clear and concise manner, but also in a way that unequivocally reflects the true me. In fact, I can credit any new idea of mine to the force of creation which is within me. I see the force of sustenance at play due to my ability to retain and apply knowledge and attribute my ability to discern what type of knowledge is needed in a specific situation to that. Finally, the force of destruction enables me to use my powers of judgment and rational thinking. I feel empowered to ruminate over ideas and eliminate defunct thoughts from my mind so that I make the best decisions possible for myself. The force of destruction need not be negative; in fact, it can really help us to reform and change for the better. The positive thoughts pilot our words, which lead to our actions, and culminate in habits, to again resonate omne trium perfectum.
The forces of Trimurthi have also helped my spiritual growth. The force of creation drives me to meditate effectively by transporting myself mentally to a haven where I feel completely peaceful, thus facilitating self-awareness. As I become more sentient, I recognize the full extent of my strengths and weaknesses; the force of sustenance propels me to improve in all aspects and grow as a human being. With increasing self-consciousness, I am more cognizant of negative emotion and anger and feel impelled by the force of destruction to purge it. Although I have not been able to completely free myself of anger, I have made definite progress in being able to identify its onset and work on self-control.
The forces of Trimurthi have enabled me to appreciate my heritage and religion, and to distinguish their applications in my everyday life. With each passing day, I grow not only as a thinker and analyst, but also as a human being due to this omne trium perfectum,

1194

Given my low SAT 1 scores, I am quite assured of the rejection that I will get very soon. Yet I thought of sharing a draft of the Why UChicago Essay here:

On January 9th, I received the UChicago News email, which I had subscribed to a few months before, notifying me about Professor Claudia Brittenham’s work to decode the Mexican Mural artworks found at Cacaxtla. Clicking on the provided link, I familiarized myself with the work. This single work was an evidence of the rigorous engagement UChicago had not only in the city but over the world. I was not only struck by this fact but also by the thoughts of the Professor which led to her findings. This news though has only been one amongst the many others that I have learnt about.

When I first began my college searching process, I looked out for ones taking in mind both the opportunities and how well I would fit in. Though UChicago was one of my targets from before, I wanted to make myself more accustomed to the institution’s philosophy and approach. The Core Curriculum itself was enough to give me the assurance that this was the college I had been looking for. A university having the research opportunities, the global connections and most importantly the way the community was being built up- these three factors played a major role in my searching process. The UChicago Campaign of Inquiry and Impact was another great motivating factor. We all look for the answers without being aware of the direction at which we should explore. But the campaign shows UChicago’s commitment to create such an environment where the questions will be developed and then taken into further inquiry.

I intend to major in physics and the strength of the UChicago Physics Department has been an important factor behind my choice. I admire the research opportunities available at the Enrico Fermi Institute and the Kavli Institute for Cosmological Physics. Moreover, I eagerly wait for the BICEP3 results to come out which will then be used for further exploration, hopefully within the next few months. It certainly would be a great opportunity to study in an institute where there are Professors like Jeffrey Harvey, co-discoverer of the heterotic string. I have been following the works of Robert Rosner on stellar and high energy astrophysics and I have a particular interest in the works of Abigail Vieregg at The Vieregg Lab.

My primary aim is to explore the fields of mathematical cosmology, general relativity and quantum field theory which has been inspired by Late Dr. Jamal Nazrul Islam. I am currently trying to get an insight into these areas with an exploration of his work and am writing a paper on his life and work which is a part of an effort to raise awareness of the great minds that lived in my country, in the sciences. I have a particular interest in the works of Daniel E. Holz who has been working on both cosmology and relativity. Moreover, since my recent exploration of the idea of gravitational waves, I assume that there is the possibility of a unification of quantum mechanics and relativity using such waves as the starting point. This though can only be done my exploration of the waves which can be done through facilities like the LIGO project with which Professor Daniel is associated. Moreover, I had also been following Professor Robert M. Wald’s work on the application of quantum field theory in the curved space-time. This has a high possibility of being able to create or at least aid in the steps leading to a quantum theory of gravity- a topic that is an important part of the fundamentals of physics.

Additionally, given the opportunity I would like to explore the concept of arrow of time when applied to computer memories. With the advent of induction of ferromagnetism in Graphene and the magnetic permalloy, which is a future candidate for computer memories, there are possibilities
of stronger computational capabilities. Using such abilities, the information of at least simple physical systems can be analyzed of their change with time and hence compute the future or past states they had been maintaining. Just as gravity and even the mind (psychological) have their particular arrows of time, I assume from my explorations that there is the possibility of a ‘Computational Arrow of Time’ or a ‘Memory Based Arrow of Time’ which can predict phenomenon in both directions of the arrow with a certain standard deviation that can be calculated as per experimentations. This concept can be a crucial determining factor of computational logic and reasoning and add to our understanding of time.

The community is an important factor beyond any institute’s success. At UChicago, this part is easily accounted for by the diverse group of thinkers and doers coming from different nations, having different interests but most importantly the wide array of perspectives that is made available. In fact to reach excellence, the community plays a major factor given that it is diversified since then the advent of a larger group of ideas and perspectives flow in. Except the diversity itself, who will not want to engage in the different activities being organized every day? University life is certainly not only the academic explorations only but also the activities engaging the community. The activities include the different clubs, groups and organizations and even the evening party that may be held in the houses (I do not know about others but the Housing system at UChicago gives me a feel of being at Hogwarts itself). In fact I enjoyed taking the Which UChicago Building are you quiz which gave me a result of being the ‘Cobb Hall’. Moreover it would be a great opportunity to engage in the South Asian Students Association. I also want to be a part of The Secular Alliance at UChicago where I can explore my agnosticism further which is currently not possible in my country, looking for other such thinkers or even engage in debates.

If I want to share everything and the excitement I have built over the years about UChicago, a limit would not be enough and words will at one point fail to comprehend my interests. Standing at my current position I am aware that whatever I have done is not close enough to the plethora of mysteries that the universe has hidden away from us. But the thing is not the achievements but the explorations I have made from a curiosity. But it is time that I should prepare for the further truth which can only be possible in a place where I can think and carry out its implications. I now await with the hope that soon the feather will arrive; the feather of an opportunity to be a part of the UChicago Community.

1195

Imrakibul96-I enjoyed reading your essay. I think I would be safe in saying that your interest in and knowledge of physics is way above average for your age. Best of luck to you.

1196

It’s the night before decisions, and anxiety has gotten the best of me… so here are my essays!

Omne Trium Perfectum:

From a tangle of arms and legs emerges the beauty of a story told by movement, a thing which is seemingly momentary but eternal in spirit. Governed by intellect, dictated by sound, my body moves by the guidance of unseen forces. Stop. Breathe. Wipe off the sweat. Begin anew. Each set of strokes and stomps and slides is an endeavor carefully crafted from experience, one which exhausts the body but revitalizes the mind. Even as silence envelops all but the sound of my own breathing, the rhythm of invention continues to beat in my eardrums.

One. Two. Three. Four.

For four years I have embodied a style all my own: the first, I spent learning the basics of modern hip hop; the latter three I spent in the pursuit of virtuosity. Each year I would discover a new piece of my artistic puzzle - the more I danced, the more meaning I found within dance. Countless hours of trial, error and spontaneity have yielded three intertwined components which comprise my style; just as each individual cog in a machine is useless without the others, no single element of my dance shall I consider dance in itself. Only when the cogs turn together, when these elements become one, can something truly beautiful be created from nothing.

. . .

Geometry. Angles and shapes and line segments. How could something so purely mathematical be twisted, contorted, transformed into such a subjective art form? This impossibility becomes possible only if one’s fingers and hands are allowed to flow sensuously through squares and triangles and all manner of undefined shapes. One hand at a time, both hands at the same time, both hands and legs working in tandem - no matter what the method, the goal remains the same: to create illusionary images which are ever-changing, transitory, painstakingly beautiful. My right arm bends through ninety degrees at the elbow and again at the wrist, giving way to the incoming left hand. The two instruments collide and one leads the other up, through and around my head before coming to an ephemeral rest right below the waist. Movement that is physically structured but internally unstructured: that is what creates this anomalous mathematician’s paradise.

Water. The life-giver. Fluid without form. A million tiny diamonds reflect all which greet their glistening surfaces. I gaze into the ocean to see myself, to see where the tides take me, to shimmer and shift like the gentle currents beneath the water’s cover. The ultimate freedom of expression is to free oneself from the constraints of perceived reality, bringing imagination into the physical world. With this mantra in mind, my form becomes boneless and flows effortlessly like the waves of the ocean. Just as the moon sets the seas in perpetual motion, so does my mind set the body into a ceaseless stream of liquiform movements. There is no deliberate end, only a journey where meaning is captured not in one moment, but through the passage of time.

Heart. What are we, as humans, without emotion and passion? What is dance without corazón? I can mold my figure into all sorts of shapes, but it’s all meaningless if there’s no feeling, if there’s no connection with the music, if I don’t pour my energy into every move like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do. Love and hatred and sadness and all things intangible assume a tangible body - thus dance becomes a medium of expression unparalleled in its versatility. It’s a decidedly visual experience, but outward appearance is not the true essence of dance - no - dance is what you make of it. You may dance for others, but you can never forget to dance for yourself. That’s why every new image I create, every song I fall in love with, every cherished piece that springs from the depths of my conscious self will follow that time-honored idiom:

Dance to express, not to impress.

1197

And the “Why UChicago” essay:

I am INTJ: an introverted, intuitive, thoughtful, judgmental individual with a penchant for logic and objectivity. My mind is both my most valuable asset and greatest downfall, its cogs tirelessly spinning to accommodate, process and package the ceaseless flow of new information that permeates the intellectual membrane - it craves stimulation and is nourished by debate, inquiry, research and discussion. Of course, as a child borne from the womb of reason, I would inevitably be drawn to governmental institutions and diplomacy; as a scholar wrapped in eternal thought, I was destined to pursue the attainment and application of this knowledge.

My first encounter with law came from the occasional trips to Jersey City to visit my Uncle Terry, a corporate attorney, while my first experience with argumentation started on a gargantuan online forum when I was thirteen, where I debated through posts that were hundreds, sometimes thousands of words long. Eventually, I was inspired by Mock Trial to pursue law and consequently interned at the Rotolo Law Firm to resolve civil cases, which cemented my mind into the practice and revealed to me a realm of discovery, depositions, trials and argumentation. The skeleton was there, but not the meat. I knew not what kind of law I wanted to practice, but would always remember Uncle Terry sitting upright at his mahogany desk, a paradigm of geniality and confidence, adjusting his square-rimmed spectacles as he conquered mountains of documents and spoke softly and amiably with clients over the phone. Somewhere in the depths of my unconscious mind (by some Freudian mechanism), corporate law was already the apple of my eye.

In the long-term, my aspiration is not just to prepare myself for a career in corporate law, but to explore the inner machinations of domestic policy-making and international politics in order to resolve issues plaguing the United States while improving relations with nations at odds. At Yale Young Global Scholars Grand Strategy 2014, I was able to sip the sweet nectar of the ripened fruit that is international affairs and realize that as my limited time on Earth dwindles like sand in an hourglass, I want to expand my horizons to global politics and grand strategy - but today, at the tender age of seventeen, my sights are set on a career in mediation, arbitration and litigation, where the first crucial step lies within the walls of a certain university nestled within the concrete jungle of Chicago.
Studying at The College represents the ultimate opportunity to hone my legal and political repertoire, whether it be proving a client’s case, respectfully arguing to reach a compromise that suits the needs of both parties or negotiating a peace settlement. The Political Science Department classes encompass political theories old and modern, policies domestic and global, and an insight into grand strategy so that the next generation of trailblazers can sow the seeds of change in the social, economic and political landscapes for future generations to cultivate.
Behind the campus gates, the department bursts at the seams from its diverse array of courses - each of the forty-five undergraduate courses is unique and complementary, allowing students to craft their individualized pathways to success while maintaining a solid required curriculum based in domestic and global perspectives, as well as ancient and modern thought processes. I could balance the more conventional Intro to Comparative Politics class with Antipolitics or even Political Economy of Global Food for a bit of cross-educational spice. Paired with these major-related and elective classes, general education requirements would establish an all-encompassing foundation for learning while allowing enough wiggle room for students like me to pursue even the most unimaginable of subject areas.

However, the beauty of The College’s undergraduate experience lies not only in the half-structured, half-unorthodox nature of its courses, but also in its inhabitants. The University of Chicago is a tapestry sewn from the threads of its students, a fountain of knowledge drawn from the well of pedagogy, a peerless paradigm of scholarly diversity, a creative medley composed of humankind’s most innovative minds from the Golden Coast to the city that never sleeps to who-knows-where. Though it may seem paradoxical for someone so grounded in logic to seek such a creative environment, that’s who I am: an analyst and an artist. After all, where’s the excitement in debating with someone who is stubbornly rooted in his/her own convictions? The greatest friends and foes (though I probably wouldn’t consider anyone at Chicago to truly be an enemy) are the ones with the most flexible minds, and judging from the eccentric essay prompts which current students and alumni have concocted for Chicago’s application, it seems that I will find them here. To be surrounded by like-minded and forward-looking individuals who are so similar yet different from me, to have the resources to research the failures and successes of policy creation in the past century in order to shape new decisions, to be able to intern in Washington or at Skadden Arps in the heart of New York, to break the boundaries of creativity - these elements of the Political Science experience are what make the University of Chicago an invaluable piece of the my lifelong puzzle.

1198

@kaukauna‌ thanks man

1199

Why Are Odd Numbers so Odd?

 Even from a young age, Seven didn’t quite fit in with the rest of the boys his age. While the other boys would be outside playing football or baseball, Seven would be inside, practicing his penmanship and browsing through volumes of mystery novels. While the other boys experienced the adrenaline rush of a wrestling match (free-for-all, of course), Seven would sit inside, reading about what caused said rush. However, Seven was still able to make friends, and everything was alright for a time. 

 Middle school was an interesting time for Seven. One of the most handsome and well-dressed boys in his grade, many girls would fawn over him, hoping to be his “girlfriend” (whatever that entails for someone in middle school). However, with peer pressure informing Seven about which girls were hot, and which girls were not, he was eventually coerced into dating the prettiest girl in the grade, Two. Many considered them to be the best couple in school; their relationship followed almost as closely as Kim and Kanye’s. However, all was not pleasant for them. Two found many of her advances to be unrewarded, as Seven just didn’t seem to be interested in her. As her self-esteem fell rapidly, Two ended her relationship with Seven. And thus, Seven’s first relationship was a complete failure.

 High school was another time of test and trials for Seven, however, no event more so than Halloween of senior year. Seven was at a friend’s party, working his way around the room, charismatically chatting around with everyone, when he decided that he would drink that night. As the amount of alcohol he consumed increased, so did Seven’s confidence, and his increasing confidence was followed with decreasing discretion. As the night drew to a close, Seven locked lips with a friend of his, a boy named Thirteen. It was a moment of great passion, and it made Seven realize just who he truly was.

 From then on out, Seven embraced his homosexuality. He decided that he wanted to live his life to the fullest, no matter what people thought about him. He went to school, attained a law degree, and married a handsome young man named Ninety Nine. 

  However, things quickly turned bad for Seven. As society became less and less accepting, his status quickly degraded. He was forced to move from his beautiful home on Prime Place, to the low income street of Composite Road. He was fired from his job, and quickly rejected from other places of employment. One day, under the leadership of the Even Party, a census of the country was taken, with the normal being labeled “even”, and the undesirable societal rejects being labeled “odd”. 

  Thousands of millennia later, when the Arabs discovered a record of the Great Numeral Civilization, they mistook the census as a sort of numeral system. From then on, names were used as numbers, people used as a way to count. And, best of all, the “odds”, once segregated and discriminated against, were no different from their “even” brethren, except when it came to being divided by two.
1200

So I’ve been lurking around for a bit, and looking through this essays really helped me out, so I’ve made an account now that I’m accepted am I’m going to share my own essays. Here goes:

Were pH an expression of personality, what would be your pH and why? (Feel free to respond acidly! Do not be neutral, for that is base!)
— Inspired by Joshua Harris, Class of 2016

In eighth grade science class, I learned that pH was how you knew if something was acidic or basic. In ninth grade chemistry class, I learned that pH was the measure of hydrogen ions in solution. In tenth grade AP Chemistry, I learned that pH was the negative logarithm of the hydronium ion concentration in solution, and that there existed a counterpart, pOH, the negative logarithm of the hydroxide ion concentration in solution. After that, it seemed like the end of the definitions.

In retrospect, it feels like a bit much: why couldn’t they pick one definition and stick with it? I suppose that’s just how science is: there’s always something more to learn. But it makes me wonder: what if this ever expanding definition of pH didn’t stop with AP Chemistry?

So let’s imagine for a second that pH isn’t how you knew if something was acidic or basic. Let’s imagine it wasn’t the negative logarithm of the hydronium ion concentration in solution. Let’s say that pH was a measure of an aspect of a person’s personality. Let’s say that pH was the negative logarithm of the concentration of swear words a person uses in casual conversation.

The p of course, stands for the negative logarithm. The H traditionally stands for the word “Hell,” but in modern usage can be taken to mean any other number of words generally deemed inappropriate in polite conversation. These words are classified as acidic words, or more colloquially swear words. Concentration of these words is expressed in the form:

number of acidic words/milliseconds of conversation

Using this definition we can express a person’s pH as:

-log*(number of acidic words/milliseconds of conversation)

So, theoretically, if we had a person who swore 100 times every second their mouth was open, they would have a pH of 1, or an extremely acidic personality. More realistically, if someone theoretically swore once a minute, they’d have a pH of around 4.77, or a fairly acidic personality. A person with a relatively neutral personality would swear once every 2.77 hours.

On the flipside of pH is pOH. When referring to personality, the OH traditionally represents the word “oh,” as in “Oh my, what did you just say?” or “Oh dear, look at the time, I must be going.” However in modern usage it commonly refers to any number of bland, boring words with no real meaning, or “basic words.” A person’s pOH is measured similarly to pH, only in terms of basic words:

-log*(number of basic words/milliseconds of conversation)

pH and pOH are inverses, of course. The more frequently a person swears, or uses acidic words, the less frequently will they blather on, or use basic words. So a person with a pH of 4 will have a pOH of 10, and vice versa. So for general usage, it’s easiest to just refer to one unit of personality, typically pH.

Now, let’s see if we can’t estimate my pH. I’ll be honest, I don’t exactly watch my language when it comes to casual conversation with friends. So if I’m just hanging out and talking, I’d say I swear maybe twice a minute just as an estimate. Of course, I’m much more restrained in polite conversation with my parents, teachers, and other adults. No swear words at all if I’m having a conversation with the principal. I’d estimate that formal conversations like these comprise about 30% of all my conversations. So if I swear twice per minute in casual conversation, and that comprises 70% of my total conversation time, I can calculate my pH like so:

pHPatrick = -log((2 acidic words/minute of casual conversation)(0.7 minutes of casual conversation/minute of overall conversation)*(1 minute/60,000 milliseconds))

pHPatrick = 4.6320233

So what does that say about me? Well, I keep things interesting in conversation, at least.